


Reckless

by sixtieshairdo



Category: Days of Our Lives
Genre: Brian has pretty teeth, M/M, Reminisce, Sonny can be destructive too, Sonny's POV, Will is heartbreaking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 10:25:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/697259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixtieshairdo/pseuds/sixtieshairdo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sonny looks back to when Will happened to him, to their falling out, and to the blurry future ahead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reckless

Before Will, there were others.

 

He remembers what it used to be like. Fluid commitments, hazy kisses and slick bodies heavy with sweat and scents; no strings attached. After everything ended, they'd smile at each other, say goodnight, and life goes the fuck on.

 

Things were not complicated. His heart didn't beat quite so fast when and if he met any of these one-night stands at grocery stores, bookshops, or coffee houses. They'd smile again, nod their acknowledgements, and move the fuck on.

 

Will complicated  _everything_.

 

He's been in love before. He's been loved before.

 

But  _Will_? Will was different in all the ways he never expected.

 

He'd made a pact with himself, years ago, when he found himself falling headlong into a massive one-sided love affair with his high school best friend, who only served to break his heart when he was rejected, kindly of course, and he found himself on a self-rampage to forget Dave as good as he could.

 

He was young, immature and impulsive. He was embarrassed and heartbroken. He lost his virginity to an elderly gentleman who was careful enough not to hurt him, as he was held down in an unfamiliar room, somewhere he doesn't want to remember.

 

Will was once his good friend, and despite his pact to himself, he realized that without knowing when or how, his heart started racing whenever Will showed up unexpectedly; a warm hand on his shoulder always welcome, a bright white grin and that barking laugh always treasured.

 

He tried to fight it off, of course, but he reluctantly admitted to himself that he was a real  _goner_  when he found someone like Brian - someone he would usually take  _no_  time at all to get invested in - completely and utterly outside of his sexual interest. Brian's a great guy, and if he had turned up earlier,  _pre_ -Will, perhaps something might have worked out.

 

Because  _Will_? Will was more than everything.

 

More than enough.

 

...

 

Starting out was no piece of cake.

 

After several instances of miscommunication and confusion, Will finally said  _yes_ , and when they'd held hands for the first time, he actually felt tiny sparks of electricity swim through his fingertips. Their first date was chaste enough, and yet he couldn't recall ever feeling so exhilarated on a first date; to actually have Will so involved and present in this new shiny thing between them. (If he dared to be honest with himself, he was worried that Will might bolt after he kissed him the second time.)

 

Their first kiss - their  _shared_  first kiss, and not the one that broke his heart when Will pushed him away - was awkward and slightly uncomfortable, but felt all shades of  _right_. Will had smiled into the kiss and it warmed his pounding heart to feel the upturn of lips against his.

 

And that was it, really. Will's painfully endearing smile. The one that spelt his name in capital letters whenever he looked at him like  _that_.

 

They'd officially moved from "friends" to "more than friends"...and it was  _terrifying_.

 

It was frightening how  _seamless_  everything felt.

 

As though it was meant to be.

 

As if this was where they were headed all along.

 

And on top of all that, there was no peculiarity about any of it, whatsoever. They fit together better than they did when they were friends.

 

They still teased and joked like they used to, only that Will's more handsy than before, and they often ended up with limbs entangled, lips busy bruising love-bites on each other, faces flushed from the heat of hands and mouths. They developed little intimacies that became so part of themselves, so part of each other, that the absence of a simple gesture could indicate a whole difference in world-view.

 

He was afraid of breaching onto the subject of sex since Will never brought it up, but he was young with a healthy libido and he wasn't going to lie - he  _wanted_  Will in his bed, hands and mouth on him, bare skin to bare skin, hours of getting to know him in a different way altogether. He'd seen Will without a shirt on before, he knew Will was sculpted in all the right places, he'd felt Will semi-hard when they'd pressed their bodies too close during make-out sessions that go way in too deep.

 

Sex would be the ultimate hurdle into crossing from "friends" to "more than friends".

 

So on that faithful Halloween night, when Will had nodded, with a smile so broad, eyes full of eagerness and  _want_ , he felt his wall crashing down, and he gave his all in that moment, ready to take flight with Will into this commitment they'd built together. Despite the hiccups along the way, they'd managed to make it into bed, finally, slow sex with beads of sweat, knees knocking into elbows, shoulders rubbing against chins, bodies bent to fit each other, the newness like a fragile membrane between them, hitching breaths and muffled cries, rumpled bed sheets and trust,  _so_  much trust, fused in one great act.

Their first time ended with sheets bunched around their hips, their chests bare and wide-open. He recalls fondly how Will's wide-eyed innocent face broke into a laugh when the silence became too much, his own face hurting from the smile he had, joy brimming between them.

He'd asked Will to move in a few months later, clearly aware that this was moving faster than he had ever predicted it would, yet feeling like he couldn't possibly  _not_  ask Will to do so. Like everything else that should appear frightening, this felt  _right_.

 

And yet, he should've known. He shouldn't have settled into this comfort-zone so easily, shouldn't have let his guard down so quickly. He remembers, clearly,  _vividly_  like it was only just yesterday, when Will stood in front of the congregation, the air still salient with new beginnings, his face contorted into a facade that's about to crack. He felt his heart sink to his stomach, a cryptic chill settling into his bones. Will spoke alien words, yet he understood every single syllable of it. What he didn't understand was the dull numbness seeping through his skin, rendering him breathless from the bitter taste of deceit.

 

...

 

The truth had felt like someone throwing hot water  on his naked heart, before scrubbing the raw flesh off with a metal sponge...and then feeding the remains to ravenous dogs.

 

_Repeatedly_.

 

His chest felt terminally sore. Like there was a cancer blossoming, consuming his insides.

 

He  _hates_ drama. The very fact that Will didn't share this with him, damn the reasons he had, makes him feel miniscule; insignificant. The fact that the entire fucking town is buzzing with Will and Gabi's baby gives him a splitting headache. After everything they'd shared together - beyond the sex and space - he cannot reconcile with himself the excruciating truth: that Will didn't see it fit to share this enormous part of himself with him.

 

And yet whenever Will walks into a room, his breath catches in his throat, and he swears that he can feel the ground shift under his feet.

 

...

 

After the anger subsides, only vulnerability and pain remains.

 

He walked away from Will enough times for Will to stay away, but because they're so tied together, so  _bound_  and wrapped in each other for so long, he figured that Will would return in time.

 

And he  _did_.

 

With news so great, Will's practically jumping out of his skin with pride, talking about his daughter and the miracle of baby kicks.

 

He smiled at Will's infectious joy but the moment froze when Will asked him to be a part of the child's life. He felt the deep burn of disappointment strike him from inside, something unkind clenching him within. He couldn't help the chill in his response, finding himself caught between a rock and a hard place.

 

And that's when he saw it.

 

The fight in Will's eyes, fire rising from the depths of Will's stalk, hands as expressive as his face, words of forgiveness sounding a lot like hunger and fear, declaration of love never louder, never clearer.

 

Will kissed him, to his stunned amazement, and as much as he wanted the physical contact, he knew that sex would only lead to further resentment. Yet, being so close to Will, in those strong insistent arms that grasped him tight, his words had to fight through his dizzy tongue to decline Will.

 

The colour of Will's eyes shifted from a stormy sea to a calmer ocean, familiar hands cradling his head, protective and reluctant to let go.

 

He never felt so hollow, watching Will leave.

 

_Never_.

 

...

  
[](http://sixtieshairdo.livejournal.com/pics/catalog/299/5882)  
David Levithan  _The Lover’s Dictionary: A Love Story in 185 Definitions_  


_..._

 

He didn't expect to see Brian at his coffee house looking like he'd just stepped out of a magazine, eyes still as mesmerizing as ever, his height more prominent that he ever remembered.

 

Amidst the momentary surprise, he  _knows_  why Brian is here. Frankly, he'd thought that once the news had spread like wildfire, Brian would have made his presence known immediately. Word of mouth had reached him, a long time ago, back when he had brushed Brian off, that the guy was genuinely hurt and had taken a couple of weeks to actually get back into the clubbing scene.

 

Now, here Brian stands, nothing short of a beautiful predator. His teeth gleam pristine, not a strand of razor-perfect hair out of place.

 

He's no clueless damsel. He knows the name of the game, and frankly, he's just tired of feeling like a victim  _all_  the goddamn time. He's been fluctuating between anger and disappointment for enough time already.

 

(And if he dares to be honest with himself, he could feel the attraction between him and Brian spark quickly like a familiar flame licking at dry firewood.)

 

Brian leans against his counter, spilling clever nouns and verbs.

 

He matches those words with his own brand of wit, leaning easily towards Brian, taking immense pleasure at the momentary flicker of surprise in Brian's eyes.

 

They've never danced like this before. Things were chaste and friendly in the past. He was sure to make them so. But now?

 

Now, the rules are different. If he could tell what Brian was up to, he's pretty certain that Brian can read him like a book.

 

He slides the espresso over, wetting his lower lip as he does.

 

Brian's eyes linger on him the entire night.

 

...

 

Kissing someone who is  _not_  Will, someone who is distinctively different from Will in all ways possible, is exactly what he needs.

 

Brian kisses with intent, with clear-cut desire, and though he knows there's no  _love_  in this, in tonight, he also knows there's no  _heartbreak_. The hand that holds the back of his head in a firm cradle is not Will's wide-open palm in a devoted caress. The mouth that holds his lips captive isn't the teasing grin that Will carries into their kisses. The rough stubble he feels under his palm isn't Will's baby-fine fuzz.

 

Selfishly, Brian isn't an individual in his own right in that instance; he is Will's unlike signifier, he is  _not_  Will,  _not_  Will,  _not_  Will in the slightest.

 

When Brian breaks away and asks if he wants to stop, he finds himself a little endeared by the gesture, and kisses him in reply.

 

...

 

Brian's apartment looks like a love pad ready for action at any given minute.

 

He tells this to Brian, suddenly feeling reckless and uncaring. He's surprised when Brian laughs at that, rubbing the back of his neck and nodding.

 

Their eyes meet, and for a brief moment, he sees the Brian he  _knows_ , the guy who's not just this suave, plastic Ken doll, the guy who didn't use to speak with a glint in his eye or say the perfect words all the time.

 

The moment passes just as quickly as it comes, and as Brian sheds his scarf and jacket, the conversation turns to little things that skirt around the elephant in the room.

 

He can't help the blush rising from his neck when Brian says he's sexy. He repays the compliment sincerely and Brian laughs at that, making a flimsy remark that hinted it wasn't always so easy for him. Naturally, he finds himself genuinely curious, the human side of him overtaking the part of him that just wants to forget the world tonight.

 

Once again the moment passes for any potential connection between them, Brian's cool hands on the sides of his neck distracting him, their kiss growing into something darker, something that drinks him in easily, and momentarily makes him forget the broken flesh of his beating heart.

 

...

 

_Brian's a good kisser._

 

His mind is tightly wound around that, fuzzy from the open hand palming his cock through his jeans. He arches into the touch, moaning into Brian's mouth, keening for more. His shirt must've been unbuttoned at some point because the cool air is making him shiver, but he cannot seem to recall how to find any warmth. He feels Brian's leg heavy over his, that talented hand moving up to unbuckle his belt.

 

His hand jerks in sudden response to that, something inside making him want to stop Brian from going any further, but he moves his hand to touch Brian's face instead, allowing Brian's tongue more access into his mouth. The belt comes away and Brian's hand is about to pop the button on his jeans, when something,  _again_ , freezes him completely before he finds himself mumbling an apology and scrambling out of bed, half-annoyed at himself, half-frightened.

 

_It would be just sex._

 

He begins to sound like a broken record.

 

Once again, Brian surprises him by not taking offense in that. He doesn't know what to make of this Brian, this ready-to-bend-in-any-direction-for-Sonny person, who would take cues from him on when to kiss and when to fuck. Brian smiles, kisses him once more, and walks him out.

 

He goes home feeling wretched - it would be so much easier to be able to hate himself or Brian for what happened that night, but he doesn't.

 

The only thing that dominates his thoughts is the soreness of missing Will.

 

...

 

Will wants to be "friends".

 

...

 

Brian wants to be "more than friends".

 

...

 

Recklessly, he says yes to both, ignoring the voice at the back of his head that acknowledges the fact that he's lying to everyone.

 

Including himself.


End file.
